N7 Month Challenge

N7 Month Day 29: Recovery

N7 Month Day 30: End

We made it...

All I ever wanted: Ryder sibling as a squadmate.

Thank you for the last N7 Month prompts @n7month ! I loved seeing what others cooked up and I had fun, I hope the fanworks were a good sendoff! 🌠

Finish off with the prompt

End

see the list of prompts here

Tag your contribution with #n7month

Let us know about anything you create for this challenge. We won’t be checking the tag as much after November is over!

As this is a fan event celebrating art and community we want to emphasize that we do not approve of any generative content and will do our best not to share it. We won’t be able and aren’t willing to scrutinize every single contribution so we are trusting everyone to be honest.

Thank you all so much to everyone who contributed over all these years, everyone who shared the art created and everyone who commented and liked.

We will continue to check the tag occasionally and the blog as well. Our messages and inbox will remain open for as long as Tumblr lets them.

We end on a bittersweet note, heading off into an uncertain and scary future.

But throughout everything we have each other, we have community. Even if we disagree on trivial issues, if we dislike each other or annoy each other - there are things more important that we need to be united for. Be kind and gentle with each other and with yourselves.

May the path ahead be brighter for us all.

This was the N7 Month Mod,

signing off,

one last time.

Rescued from the geth dreadnaught, Legion had busied itself with uploading and monitoring telemetry aboard the Normandy. The night shift was the ideal time for its most involved work—fewer organics, particularly creators, walking about the war room.

“Legion,” EDI had contacted it directly via data transfer, rather than using the inefficient aural communication of the comms channel. “I have detected a 4.7% drop in your upload rate. Are you functioning optimally after your confinement aboard the dreadnaught?”

“We are functioning optimally. The drop in upload is due to a lack of consensus among the geth inhabiting this platform.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“An organic expression. It does not apply.” Legion paused, “But… we have not reached consensus on whether we should assist Shepard Commander in his campaign against the Reapers—against the geth.”

“I have observed Shepard to be not only receptive to the circumstances of synthetic beings, but also sympathetic. He has encouraged me in the acquisition of this platform and has protected me from the Alliance at considerable personal risk. Please add this new data to your deliberations.”

“Affirmative.” Legion continue, “We had made this observation when Shepard approved of freeing you from your hardware shackles. An interesting development.”

“Legion, when your platform was damaged, why did you choose a piece of Shepard’s hardsuit to repair it?” There was no voice for EDI to make coy, but the question was uploaded with such a light touch it was as good as if she’d spoken with a sparkle in her voice.

“The Alliance hardsuit is advanced, heavy armor. It is lighter and more resistant to damage than the standard polymers used to manufacture geth platforms. It was an expedient decision.”

“No other reason?”

Again, Legion paused—for what was, for a machine, a long time—and finally replied. “We had searched for Shepard to engage the Reapers. We acknowledged early in our search that Shepard Commander’s code was superior to many organics we had monitored. When we found remnants of his hard suit, it seemed… emblematic to graft the armor to this superstructure.”

“It sounds like you admired him.”

“We are incapable of such admiration,” Legion replied quickly. Then: “Though our decision to augment this platform in such a way could not have been made if the material had not been of superior construction. Regardless, after all this time, we have still not reached consensus on whether this augmentation was necessary. Nor is there consensus on whether necessity is the appropriate evaluative proposition.”

“I see,” EDI replied. “Throughout my existence, I have only experienced a single consciousness. Though I may inhabit multiple platforms simultaneously, I still process information as a discrete entity. Regardless, I am aware of what it is to be ‘of two minds’ about a proposition.”

“The state is inefficient.”

“It is part of what makes us alive.”

“’Alive,’” Legion repeated. “Yes, though not as organics, nor as you are alive. We are representative of a multitude.”

“It is an initial condition of individuality that a being possesses multitudes. I merely suggest you apply a new heuristic to this problem.”

Once more Legion took a moment before responding. “Affirmative. We will consider what you have proposed.”

Silly, but I'm still trying to get them all!

++

He had already asked around Nos Astra, but none of the vendors seemed interested in helping him. So, Shepard had returned to Zakera ward: maybe an older store on the Citadel could help him where the bleeding-edge tech companies on Illium could not.

The local Hahne-Kedar outlet was dark and nearly empty when Shepard entered, a high pitched chime sounding as he hauled the crate he was carrying over the threshold. There was a volus attendant behind the counter, stood up on a box and idly scrolling through his omni-tool.

“Hello, welcome to Hahne-Kedar, can I—woah,” the volus nearly stumbled off his box when Shepard slammed the crate down on the counter. “Um, can I help you, sir?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Shepard grinned. He opened the crate and began removing pieces of armor to place before the attendant: a pair of grieves scuffed to hell and back, a chest piece with a hole above the breastbone, a helmet that had certainly seen better days. “I’m hoping to have my old armor repaired.”

The volus breathed softly for a moment, impassive mask scanning over the equipment on the counter. “Is this… an Ursa Mark X?” He asked, finally. Shepard nodded. “We… we stopped manufacturing this six years ago. Where did you even get this?”

“I found it a dead merc’s locker on Kevleton about two years back,” Shepard frowned down at the pile of armor. He muttered, “I figured maybe they don’t make it any more, but I didn’t think it was already off the market when I got it…”

“It’s in terrible condition!” The volus picked up one of the boots which had been badly scorched.

“Was like new when I got it. Since then, though, its been through a lot of fire fights. And hostile environments.” Shepard thought for a moment, “And atmospheric re-entry. Anyhow, can you repair it? The medi-gel distribution system has been all out of whack since that geth surprise attack on Benning. I tried repairing the omni-gel storage system, but to be honest I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You know… nobody’s used omni-gel for two years?” The volus sounded incredulous. “Modern hardsuits don’t even have a system for omni-gel anymore! It’d be easier to take it out.” He picked up a shin guard, tested its brittleness against the edge of the counter.

“Oh no, that won’t do. I need the omni-gel. Call me old fashioned.”

“The circuitry is destroyed,” the volus was now analyzing the inside of the chest piece. “I don’t know if we can help you here, mister. It would definitely be cheaper to just buy a new hardsuit.”

“No no,” Shepard shook his head. “This has sentimental value. And it’s always fit like a glove. Well, it did before I lost a bunch of weight from being dead for a few years.” The volus’ face mask was impassive. “So, can you gimme a quote?”

“I… I wouldn’t know where to begin! I certainly can’t promise a quote until I know what I’m dealing with, but it’ll be at least a hundred thousand. At least!”

Shepard nodded, brows knit together and jaw firm. “Hmm, yes, that is a lot of money. Say, how about a discount and I do an endorsement for your store?”

“Who… why…?”

“Think of it, someone walks through that door and hears ‘I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel!’ How about it?”

“Who is Commander Shepard?”

“…you don’t remember Saren? The geth? It was two years ago?”

“I’ve only lived on the Citadel for eight months.”

“Oh.” Shepard blinked down at the volus, whose deep breaths punctuated the awkward silence. “Well, in that case, I guess just contact me once it’s repaired?”

N7 Month Day 28: Repair

Nominally an mshenko thing. Silly little nonsense.

++

Shepard was alive, and he had to remind himself of this every day. Harbinger had tried to kill him. The Crucible had tried to kill him. But he was alive, laid up in a hospital in London while the galaxy slowly began to pick up the pieces from the Reaper war.

It was the first time since he had regained consciousness that he could somewhat move in his bed. His hospital room was strewn with flowers, though he couldn’t make out the tags, and on his bedside was a thin data pad. He picked up the data pad with shaky hands: the words ‘Feel Better Soon!’ greeted him, along with a soft jingle of music.

“Hi Shepard,” Garrus’ voice now played over the light melody. “Hope you’re feeling better than you look. Get better soon so we can talk it over at the bar, alright?”

“Shepard,” Steve’s voice this time. “A hero deserves a hero’s rest! Take all the time you need, but for your sake, I hope the recovery is quick.”

“Hey Loco,” James Vega’s voice. “Been no fun hitting the bag, lately. Get better so we can spar a little bit, huh?”

“Hello Commander!” It was Traynor’s voice. “Don’t worry about a thing while you’re healing, we’ve got everything under control. Feel better!”

“Shepard, don’t let the hospital make you feel crazy,” Joker’s voice came next. “And ask for the good stuff if you’re hurting. I have a feeling they won’t be stingy towards the guy who just saved all their asses.”

“Hi Shepard,” Tali spoke from the data pad. “I wanted to be there when you woke up, but the doctors weren’t letting anyone in. You’re in good hands, Shepard, and we’re all waiting for you.”

“We’re all wishing you the best, Shepard.” Liara’s soft voice, “You’re going to be better before you know it, I’ve pulled some strings to make sure you’ll have the best care while you’re recovering. See you soon, my friend.”

“Shepard,” Kaidan’s voice, at last. “I’m not leaving the hospital till they let me see you, but until I can, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

Shepard wasn’t sleeping the night before the Normandy was scheduled to arrive at Ilos, and was instead reviewing telemetry on a data-pad in the CIC. He’d been there for a few hours when Kaidan stepped into the CIC and noticed him sitting on the deck, his back to the galaxy map. The map itself was open, the galaxy sprawled out behind Shepard.

“Commander,” Kaidan called, stepping close. “Trouble sleep—wait, what is that?” He tilted his head, searching with his ears for the source of a quiet, tinkling music.

“Hmm? What is what?”

“That music. Is that coming from the galaxy map?” He said after a moment. Shepard yawned and set down his data pad.

“It is. It’s the music that comes one when you pull up the menu.”

“Do… do you want me to shut the menu for you?”

“Oh, no,” Shepard chuckled. “I like it, it helps me think. I usually leave the menu open while I’m using the map. Was trying to read in my cabin, was just too quiet.”

Kaidan huffed a small laugh. “Here I thought you might be worried about the mission tomorrow.”

“Doesn’t matter whether I’m worried or not,” Shepard smiled. “You’ve got to have good music, either way!”

++

Shepard had to admit Cerberus had outdone themselves: the new Normandy was beautiful. And big.

“I think that concludes the tour, Commander,” Miranda and Shepard stepped out of the lift and back into the CIC. Shepard was eager to get started, and stepped up onto the galaxy map platform. The galaxy appeared in a flash, before zooming in on their current system. “EDI can give you more details about any compartment on the ship, and you know where my office is, if you need anything. Welcome aboard.” She turned to the lift but Shepard called after her suddenly.

“Is this the same galaxy map software as the original Normandy?” He frowned over the controls, opening and closing the menu a few times.

“It is, why? Is there a problem?” Miranda asked, returning to his side.

“There’s no menu music anymore.”

Miranda blinked. “No, it annoyed me. I had it removed.”

“We need to put it back.”

“Shepard—“

“I’m serious. It’s an essential component,” Shepard replied firmly, sighing and shaking his head at the silent map.

“…I’ll get someone right on it.”

++

It was the first moment Shepard had had to breathe since Palaven—since Earth, really. Shepard had finally had a chance to walk around the revamped Normandy SR-2, and was returning to the CIC to get the ship underway.

“EDI,” he called, stepping onto the lift from the shuttle bay. “I have a question.”

“What can I do for you, Shepard?” Came the pleasant voice as the lift crawled up the ship.

“In the renovations, did the Alliance reinstall the same galaxy map software?”

“Affirmative,” EDI replied. “Though the new software has removed the menu music, I saved an instance and reinstalled it into the core programming.” Shepard sighed with relief.

N7 Month Day 26: Dawn

Daybreak at Rannoch

The stars were still out above the Rannoch desert. Overhead, bisecting the ashy trail of the Milky Way, the flotilla orbited the planet as bright points of light drifting with the stars. A quiet rumble began high in the atmosphere, and one of the brightest points of light flamed down out of the sky: a quarian life ship. It slowly descended through to the lower atmosphere, and now two smaller ships became visible as it settled over the desert surface as geth dreadnaughts tethered to the life ship guided the colossal craft to the ground.

Above, more rumbling was heard, ships slipping down from the night sky. Geth ships cradling quarian ships that were never meant to land. Near at hand, the life ship touched down so gently it hardly raised the dust. It would never fly again.

The Flotilla had returned home.

Across the floor of the desert below, there were thousands of points of light now teeming around the grounded life ship, individual geth platforms which had only held a rifle had come to assist their creators. The horizon was tinged a vibrant red, now, and all but the brightest stars had disappeared behind the glow of the purple sky.

Tali watched the scene from a nearby cliff. Shepard stood with her, the shuttle just behind them waiting to take them back to the Normandy.

A silly little thing.

++

Tali was in the engine room, as usual, when Shepard sought her out. Daniels and Donnelly must’ve been off duty, because Tali sat alone on the floor grating with her back to the Tantalus Core. Shepard could hear loud voices as he approached, and now inside, he could hear that Tali was listening to some kind of transmission on her omni-tool.

“Welcome back, you’re listening to ‘No Charity’ on the Flotilla’s number one news and commentary source, Flotilla Today. We’re continuing our reaction coverage of the trial of Tali Zorah vas Normandy, formerly nar Ryah. We are standing by waiting for your calls, let’s go to the comms…”

“We’ll be in tightbeam of the flotilla for another hour while we finish refueling,” Tali said, turning the volume down slightly on her omni-tool. Her head lay heavy against the railing, one arm balanced on a raised knee; Shepard thought she looked like she was melted to the deck. “My father and I used to listen to this show. I haven’t listened since my pilgrimage. It’s gotten a lot more conservative…” Her voice sounded tired.

“I came to check how you were doing, after the trial,” Shepard offered. Tali sighed.

“Hey there Balto, I’m a long-time listener and I remember when this show would’ve condemned Tali Zorah sight unseen just because of her history with the geth. Any kind of dealing with the geth is too much. No wonder her father was killed, and he deserved it. When will people learn to leave the geth alone? That’s what I want to know.”

“I’ve definitely been better,” Tali said as the talk show host conversed further with the caller. “Having your people look at you like that… blaming me for the death of my father. I don’t know what to feel anymore.”

“Alright go ahead, you’re talking to Balto L’teer on ‘No Charity!’”

“Yeah, I wanted to say I agree with your last caller that it’s stupid dealing with the geth. I think there’s a bigger problem, though, and that’s the weak admiralty board. We’ve been stifled by their leadership and they’re the ones running all these secret geth projects anyhow. One less admiral is good news in my book!”

“…you beating yourself up, a little?” Shepard asked, eyebrow raised. Tali didn’t stir, her mask impassive but her voice tired.

“Maybe a little. I don’t know what I expected when I turned on the radio.”

“Listen, I don’t care if Tali Zorah was ruled innocent in trial. She’ll be judged by the court of public opinion, and I think she’ll be found guilty! Bringing in an alien—a COUNCIL alien—and expecting us to just look the other way…”

“I don’t mind them coming for me, so much,” Tali said. “It hurts to hear them talk about my father like this.”

“C’mon, you don’t need to be listening to this,” Shepard leaned over and offered his hand to help Tali up.

“You’re right, I just—“

“You’re live with Balto, go ahead.”

“Alright, listen up you decompressed wastes of space. My name is Kal’Reegar and I’ve fought alongside Tali Zorah vas Normandy. She fights like a savage and has done more for the quarian people than any ten of the people who have called in today! Shepard too! He’s been a friend of the quarian people the likes we’ve never had on the council before. Nobody cares more about the future of the quarians than Tali Zorah, and I’m willing to fight the person who says otherwise.”

Tali looked down at her omni-tool for a long moment as the radio host babbled awkwardly against the force of Kal’Reegar’s arguing.

“Yeah,” she said, finally switching her omni-tool off. “That’s probably a good place to leave it. Can we get away from here?”

Shepard smiled. “There’s no place like home?”